


R163 - Rescue by Stranger

by MundaneChampagne



Series: U21 [5]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Follows first act of main quest, Gary is a good person, Gen, Liberal quoting of Edgar Allen Poe, References to Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MundaneChampagne/pseuds/MundaneChampagne
Summary: But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke onlyThat one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”Then the bird said “Nevermore.”Out of the Vault steps a man.





	R163 - Rescue by Stranger

In the scope. That shade of blue could probably be seen miles away. Why put someone in a vault uniform just to freeze them minutes later? Blinding. Light must've been so blinding. Deacon gives a brief prayer of thanks for his own sunglasses.

Stumbling gait that grows more confident each moment. Figure turns their face into the light. Male. Black. Hair cropped tightly to head. Eyeglasses. Handsome, for an icicle.

Moments pass. The man turns around again, and there's a flash of light in the scope as the man's wedding ring catches the sun.

Married, then. But alone. Was his spouse down in the vault? Dead, like the rest of them?

The man's pace is slow at first, but becomes brisk. To the fence, out the gate, down the path to the cul-de-sac.

Deacon abandons his spot, creeps closer. Parks himself behind a bush. Watching.

And then that whirring. Deacon winces, because if his Vaultie immediately gets dismembered by a crazed Mr Handy, he is going to be severely annoyed.

That's not the case. The Handy greets the Vaultie like an old friend. And when the Handy breaks down, almost as close to tears as a robot can be, and the Vaultie comforts it—well. And the way the Vaultie steps into that house, the one that was preserved, touching the door frame like he wasn't sure it was solid, that it might dissolve under his hands, Deacon realizes.

This decayed neighborhood, this was the Vaultie's. This house, the Vaultie's home. That Handy—

Well.

This world however? That is _not_ the Vaultie's, and Deacon is quickly realizing that he can't let his guard down ever, because the Vaultie has no idea what is waiting for him. Forget learning survival skills, first this poor soul has to get to a place where they decide that they _want_ to survive.

If it'd been Deacon in this man's place—there probably wouldn't be a new Vaultie in the Commonwealth, not for long.

It takes several hours before the Vaultie leaves the neighborhood. Deacon uses the time to slowly creep closer, close enough to hear what the Vaultie is saying.

"Sir, I could accompany you. It's a dangerous world out there, and I—"

"Codsworth, I'd like you to stay," the Vaultie says. His voice is even and pleasant. "You've done a good job keeping this place safe. I'd like it to stay safe, if I end up needing to stay here."

"Very well, sir. And Mr. Gary, do be careful out there. It's been two hundred years, and I don't want to spend another two hundred being alone."

"I'll be careful, Codsworth, I promise."

Gary, Deacon notes. And a Mr Handy with the English personality installed, named Codsworth. That alone is enough to make him bite back a laugh.

Although that particular choice of Handy model worries him a little. If this Vaultie is used to a comfortable, upper-middle-class life, the Commonwealth might not agree with them.

This doesn't seem to be the case. Deacon notes that the Vaultie (Gary, his mind supplies him, the man's name is Gary) has a 10 mm strapped to his waist when he leaves. The holster also has a small pouch, ostensibly for ammo. Smart, to think of grabbing a gun before he'd even seen what the Commonwealth has in store.

Of course, having a gun and being able to use it are two very different things.

There are two corpses lying in the sun at the end of the footbridge. A raider had got attacked by a dog, by the looks of it. Gary kneels down next to the bodies and quickly goes through the raider's pockets, pulling out loose bullets, chems, and some packages of Pre-War food. Gary sorts through the lot, wisely pocketing all the bullets, the medicinal chems, and the choicer selections of food packages.

Deacon is beginning to think the man has some experience with rough living.

These suspicions are confirmed at dusk, when Gary steps into a suit of power armor like he's been doing it all his life, picks up a minigun with ease, and brings down a deathclaw without flinching. All to help out a group of settlers displaced from Quincy.

Gary then accompanies the ragged group of people back to that cul-de-sac (Sanctuary, he calls it, and it is an apt name), and settles them in the ruins of his former home. They build a campfire, cook dinner, and spend the evening talking.

Deacon counts his lucky stars before climbing up a tall tree, hanging his bag off a limb, and belting himself in for the night. This Vaultie may be better than he'd ever hoped.

 

They spend the next few days in Sanctuary. Gary and the one other man—Minuteman, Deacon learns—lead the group in fixing up the homes to be more permanent dwellings. Gary has no problem with the settlers stripping his old house for materials. He's not sentimental.

Or maybe he just doesn't want reminders of his old life. Deacon can't tell.

They all gather around the campfire in the evenings. Deacon parks himself on the far side of a roof, laying on his back, looking at the stars, and listening to the strains of conversation wafting on the air.

A son. Deacon closes his eyes and opens them, the stars blinking out of existence for a short moment. Someone had opened the vault and stolen the man's infant son, shooting his wife in the process. God in heaven. This was more than he'd been prepared to deal with.

A parent whose child is in trouble can be a powerful force. Couple that with the fact of Vaulties, and Deacon is beginning to realize that he has a major wildcard on his hands.

It had to be the Institute, right? There was no one else in the Commonwealth who would know to go to that vault, steal a fuckin' _baby_ for chrissakes, and leave again. Right?

Gary's playing it smart. He's grilling these settlers for info about this brave new world he's stumbled into. He's waiting a few days, putting together a kit, relearning military skills. Of course the man was a veteran. Gary is almost absurdly well-positioned to take on this challenge.

The settlers tell him that Diamond City is the logical place to start. It's not a horrible distance from here, it's safe, he can sell any scrap he collects on the road, and most importantly, there's a detective.

Well, that's not entirely how it comes up. There's an old woman with the group, one who supposedly whispers prophecies while she's high. There's not much in the way of chems in this old suburb, so she's been having some trouble, but the detox is apparently so bad that she can see some flashes of stuff while in the throes of withdrawal-sickness.

She whispers to him of Diamond City, a man trapped below the ground, and a light in the dark.

Deacon's hand absently grasps his elbow, where there are still scars from needle use.

And then, that night, floating out over the stars, a plan. Gary will leave for Diamond City in the morning. After the campfire is banked, Deacon checks his own bag, reorganizes things, and makes his own plans.

 

Of course the Vaultie has to go and collect a German Shepherd on his first day out in the 'Wealth. Of bloody course. Because Deacon really needs to be worrying about a dog smelling him out on top of everything else.

The dog knows he's there, Deacon can tell. But for some doggy reason, the pooch keeps it to himself. Deacon resolves to sneak some Cram to the dog at some point. Doesn't hurt to be on the good side of a critter with a nose like that and the teeth to back it up.

Deacon watches the road. Keeps it clean from anything that might prove too troublesome. Stashes _The Wasteland Survival Guide_ in a trunk that Gary opens an hour later.

It's only after a day of travelling that it hits Deacon. The Institute wanted this guy out. Why haven't they come to collect him?

After that, Deacon keeps his eyes out more than ever. Forgoes sleeping in favor of mentats. He's careful about the dosages—has to be—but dropping his guard even for a moment could sweep everything away. All his hard work, and worrying.

It takes two days for Gary to reach Diamond City. That little map device he wears on his wrist looks amazingly handy. Deacon's seen them before, but hasn't quite appreciated what it can do. The mapping system leads Gary right to the Great Green Jewel of the 'Wealth.

Deacon relaxes and leans back against a wall, his Diamond City Security uniform rendering him comfortably anonymous.

Two days later, Gary fishes a synth detective out of a mess of gangsters. Deacon shadows them back to Diamond City, happy to note that Gary is pleasant to the detective, despite the synth's mangled appearance.

The Railroad keeps track of every known synth in the Commonwealth. It would be madness not to. Diamond City, however, is a no-fly zone, and Deacon is interested to see that Nick Valentine is not a gen 3 like he'd believed, but something resembling a plastic-skinned gen 2. If gen 2s dressed like they were in a detective noir film, that is. Valentine's reputation has always been sparkling, but Deacon is still interested in the fact that he is able to openly live and work in Diamond City.

It seems like it's going to take Gary and the detective some time to sort through Gary's case, so Deacon heads out.

He catches sight of a fresh dead drop just by the Charles. The Railroad generally doesn't operate anywhere in the vicinity of Diamond City. Curious at this change, he cracks the letter open.

 _D_ _—_

_Been hearing some strange rumors lately. Analyst is having trouble figuring out the implications.  Please tell me you've got an eye on these developments._

_ETA?_

_DB_

Deacon carefully shreds the note, and drops the pieces in the river. A Pre-War Vaultie is a big deal. It is no wonder that P.A.M. is struggling.

More disturbing is the fact that rumors are already spreading. The Commonwealth isn't exactly a small town, but gossip tended to get around pretty well.

He pulls out a scrap of paper, and scribbles a reply.

_Eyes everywhere. Not worried right now._

_ETA unknown. Places to go, things to do._

_D_

It's only when he gets back to the city and hears a whisper of Conrad Kellogg that he wants to return to the dead drop and leave a note ALL IS NOT WELL. PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE IS INVOLVED. He can't, however. Going back to a dead drop is like returning to the scene of a crime. Too much attention paid leads to suspicion.

Deacon grits his teeth and books a room at the Dugout for the night. From what he's overheard, Valentine wants to search Kellogg's old house, and do it in an aboveboard manner. It's too late into the night to speak to the mayor. Everything will be stalled until morning. 

That night, he dreams about a Courser. Only this one _is_ a nightmare, and he wakes up in a sweat, the thin blanket twisted around his body.

If he thinks about it too hard, he can still feel the heat from the flames on his face.

 

Mist rises over the Commonwealth.

It doesn't deter the dog's nose. Deacon keeps his distance as Gary and Valentine follow the pooch, who tracks Kellogg's path handily.

Deacon briefly considers what the Railroad could do with a scenthound or two.

Wherever Kellogg's fled to, it's far from Diamond City. They take a break at midday, sitting on top of a ridge. Gary eats lunch, and does offer Valentine a bite, who politely declines. Deacon, perched in a tree, smiles. Amazing. Any other Commonwealth person probably wouldn't bother. He isn't sure if it's ignorance talking, or Gary just being a really polite bastard.

They finally arrive at an old military fort. Deacon doesn't dare follow them inside. Instead, he climbs up to the roof and perches on a radiator, keeping lookout. He's not sure that Gary and Valentine will be able to take Kellogg out. A number of Railroad agents had died after crossing the bastard.

All he can do is wait.

As the shadows grow longer, he hears shouting coming from the vent at his feet. Deacon drops down and put his ear to the vent. If he strains to listen, he can catch faint dialogue.

Then gunfire.

After the gunfire falls silent, he waits a handful of tense minutes. A door opens below him. Deacon scrambles to the edge of the roof and drops to his stomach.

Gary and Valentine emerge, Gary throwing his hand up to shield his face from the late day sun.

"So," Valentine says after a moment, "how you feeling about all this?" The synth's voice, though scratchy, is surprisingly human for a gen 2.

"Killing him was the only way," Gary replies. "But that doesn't mean I like it."

Deacon perks his ears up and has a mental celebration. Conrad Kellogg is dead. The most dangerous thing besides Coursers that the Institute had to throw at them. No more. Vaultie has just done the entire Commonwealth a massive favor, whether he knows it or not.

The whirr of an engine interrupts his thoughts.

_What the hell is that._

A massive airship hovers in the sky, cutting through the sunset's rays. Numerous vertibirds accompany it. There is a screech of a loudspeaker, and then words ring out: "People of the Commonwealth. Do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel."

Gary and Valentine lean out over a railing, their eyes trained on the sky. Lying on the roof behind them, Deacon mentally plots out the airship's course. They're heading towards Boston. The only reasonable place to stash that thing is the Boston Airport.

The Railroad's going to have to recall all their operations in the area. Deacon's mind churns, making plans. He's got to get back to HQ tonight. Gary's in good hands with Valentine. He hopes he can pick up their trail again after he delivers his warning.

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood/there wondering, fearing," Valentine murmurs.

Deacon mentally recites along with him. _Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever/dared to dream before_. The detective has good taste in literature, Deacon gives him that. Poe, Boston's unhappiest son.

Their lives are about to get more difficult than Deacon ever believed possible.

_Take thy beak from out my heart, and take/thy form from off my door!_

_Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."_


End file.
